Call Me Crazy

by Quinn Loftis

  I’m lying in bed trying to fall asleep when my phone beeps, indicating that I have a text message.

  Trey: luv u

  I stare at the message and wonder how he can say those words when I was so cruel.

  Me: why?

  I hold my breath as I wait for his response.

  Trey: You were made 4 me, and I 4 u. U r mine.

  “Damn tears,” I mumble as I wipe the stray drop away.

  Me: can’t breathe w/o u

  Trey: breathe baby, I’m here, not going anywhere, breathe.

  And though it hurts, I do.

  ~

  I begin getting ready for the funeral, the second in 3 weeks. I stare long at the girl in the mirror and almost don’t recognize her. My face is pale and I’ve lost weight, causing my eyes to sink into their sockets. My eyes look empty and I find that I have to look away, because seeing the evidence of how far I’ve sunk is too much.

  ~

  Trey pulls up to the funeral home and I wonder if he’s thinking about his mom. I turn to look at him and all I see in this moment is the strong, confident man who handles everything thrown at him. He climbs out, walks around to the passenger side, and helps me get out of his truck. He takes my hand and leads me to the front door. I look around as people I recognize from Mercy file into the funeral home.

  “Tally,” I hear Dr. Stacey’s voice behind me.

  I turn to look at her and she motions for me to step aside. I walk over and feel Trey behind me, a pillar of strength ready to catch me.

  “We found this on Candy’s bedside table,” she holds out a folded piece of paper that has my name hastily written on it. “I have not read it and I’m sorry to give it to you now, but I wanted to make sure that you received it.”

  I reach out with a shaky hand and take the paper from her. I can’t take my eyes off of it and don’t notice when Dr. Stacey walks away, leaving me with Trey and my note from Candy.

  I unfold it slowly and can’t seem to force my fingers to stop trembling. Trey’s hands come down on my shoulders, steadying me.

  I read the words written in her handwriting and feel as though my heart has been run through with a stake. She asks the impossible, and yet I know that if she were here she would demand even more.

  Trey gathers me in his arms and kisses my head. “Bossy to the end.” I hear the small smile in his voice. Keeping an arm around me, he guides me into the building and into the viewing room. Her casket is closed and I imagine that since she knew she was dying she went over all of her wants with Dr. Stacey and she would expect them to be followed to the letter. I’m glad that I don’t have to see her still and lifeless. I would rather remember her as I had known her, vivacious and so very full of life.

  I don’t hear most of what the minister says and I tune out the music. I’m broken inside; I don’t need music to add to the torment. Once we are at the graveside I feel as though I just might scream that no one knew her as I did or understood her as I did. I want all of these people to go and just let me be miserable next to the grave of one of the best people I’ve ever known. I don’t want to hear one more sappy word about how she was caring and loving. Candy was cantankerous and mischievous. She loved trouble and sought it out as often as possible. She loved to annoy those around her and lived to drive the crazies even crazier. Did none of these people remember all the stunts she pulled, all the yelling and tampering? Can they not remember her as she was?

  Finally, people begin to disperse and the area empties, slowly. I feel Trey’s eyes on me, but I can’t look up at him. I stare down at the casket that they are now lowering to the grave. I don’t move as the workers begin to cover it with dirt. I find myself not believing that she’s in there, hoping it’s some elaborate hoax, but I know it’s not.

  “I’m going to let you have some time with her,” I hear Trey tell me. He leans down and kisses my forehead, and then leaves me there. I’m thankful he understands that I need this time, I need to say goodbye, although I don’t know how. Candy never was one for goodbyes. I’m still standing there long after the workers have finished and gone. I remember the peace I felt when Lolotea was buried, knowing that she no longer had to carry the burdens of this life, but I can’t find that peace with Candy’s death.

  My knees hit the ground before I even register that I’m falling. I stare at Candy’s grave and my heart begins to crumble. Anger, pain, fear, and regret all dance inside of me, each of them vying for the top spot in my broken heart. I don’t understand how she was okay with this. That’s what she told me on that bench that night; that she was okay, that she was at peace. How could she be okay with being eaten away with cancer, only to then die alone in the mental hospital? I look up at the cloud–covered sky and narrow my eyes.

  “She said you comforted her! That you gave her peace and she knew everything was going to be okay. Did she know you were going to take her!?” I yell to a God that I don’t know, a God Candy claims created us and loved us, but in that moment all, I can see is a God who had taken someone I needed desperately. “Did it ever occur to you that I need her!? Did you ever think that maybe she had more living to do?” Tears stream from my eyes and I struggle to take breaths in between sobs. “She wasn’t done, I wasn’t done.” The words grow weaker as my body shakes with overwhelming sorrow.

  My shoulders slump forward and I lean down until my face is pressed to the dirt that has yet to settle over her casket. I cry, heedless of anyone who might see me or hear me. I cry for Lolotea, for the agony she endured, and for how she gave into it, ending her life and unable to see how it would hurt Trey. I cry for Trey, for the pain I saw in his eyes when I told him about his mother, and then for the hurt and anger when I broke it off with him. I cry for Candy, I cry for me, and I cry for the lives that will never be. How do I move forward? How do I keep going?

  My hand reaches into my pocket, and I pull out the folded note from Candy that Dr. Stacey gave me. There was only one sentence on it: “Live Tally, live for all of us who can’t.”

  “HOW!?” I scream into the ground. How am I supposed to live when I have lost so much in a matter of days? How am I supposed to want to live? I close my eyes as I hold the note close to my chest. I feel the crisp October evening air caressing my wet cheeks and the setting sun only adds to the chill. I know I should go, night is falling, and I know my parents will be worried, but I don’t care. My sleeve rides up a little as I shift onto my side to curl up in a ball. I see the words I carved into my skin, and I know now, that they will always be true. I will always be damaged, I’ve lost so much in my short life, and those losses have done irreparable damage inside of me.

  I hear a soft murmur in my ear and I feel my body being jostled. I try to open my eyes, but they feel swollen and sluggish. Where was I? I try to clear my mind, to think back to what I had been doing, where I had been.

  “I’ve got her.” I hear a deep rumble against my ear, and realize that I’m being carried. I know that voice, it’s Trey, and he’s carrying me.

  “Take her up to her room please.” And that was my mom. I feel myself being laid down on a soft surface, and when I finally manage to get my eyes to cooperate, I open them and see that I’m in my room. I look up and see Trey leaning over me. The worry on his face tells me I must look pretty rough. I was in the cemetery for Candy’s funeral. I lay down next to her grave and bawled until I was drained; I must have fallen asleep.

  I feel him step back and find myself reaching for him. Desperate to know he isn’t going, frantic for him to know that I need him.

  “Hey,” he says to me, softly. “Rest baby, I love you, and I’m not going anywhere.”

  He doesn’t give me a chance to respond. He leans down, kisses me gently, turns and leaves, and then closes the door quietly behind him.

  I lay there staring up at the ceiling and let out a deep breath. Candy is gone, Lolotea is gone, I am damaged, but Trey loves me and he isn’t going anywhere. For now, that’s enough. I’m so tired, and I don’t want to think, so I
close my eyes and shut the world out.

  Chapter 27

  “Sometimes it takes falling to rock bottom, enduring utter devastation in order for us to realize just what we need, what we can’t live without. And the best part about rock bottom is you can only go up from there.” ~Trey

  She’s been asleep for nearly eighteen hours. I’ve been sitting by her bedside for most of those, only stepping away to use the bathroom and call my grandmother. I can’t stop seeing the desperate look on her face, and the way she had reached out for me. It gives me hope that she has realized that we belong together, no matter how uncertain the future is, the one thing that is certain is that she belongs with me and I with her.

  I watch the slow, steady rise and fall of her chest and hope that she isn’t dreaming, but that she is getting the rest she so desperately needs without the disturbance of things better left to deal with in the light of day.

  I hear the door open behind me and turn to see Tally’s dad come in. He has been treating me with begrudging acceptance since I brought Tally home from the cemetery. He too must have realized that I’m not going anywhere, so he can continue to be an ass, or he can get over it. It seems like he is attempting to work on accepting it.

  “She’s still sleeping?” He asks.

  I nod, “She needs it.”

  He’s quiet as he walks around to the other side of the bed so that he’s facing me.

  His gaze meets mine, and his eyes reveal a vulnerability I have yet to see. “I love her very much, and I know I haven’t dealt with everything she has been through very well. But, I’m going to do better.”

  I don’t know why he’s telling me this, other than maybe he just needs to get off his chest that he knows he has wronged his daughter, a confession of wrongdoing, and the desire to let someone know that he wants to right the wrong.

  “Tally needs to hear that,” I tell him, and try to make sure I don’t sound disrespectful. I only want him to see that in order for her to begin to heal she needs to know that he loves her as she is.

  “I know, I will tell her.”

  I watch a he leans down and kisses her gently on the forehead, and then quietly leaves. I wonder at the awkwardness of his movements and am curious how long it’s been since he has shown her any real affection.

  My attention is brought back when she finally begins to stir. I stand and walk over to the bed and sit down next to her. She opens her eyes and they meet mine immediately. I smile at her and reach forward to brush her cheek needing the contact, the connection with her.

  “You stayed,” she says groggily.

  “I told you I wasn’t going anywhere,” I remind her.

  She stares at me intently and I see a war waging in her eyes. “I’m so sorry Trey.” The words spill from her lips as they tremble.

  “Shh, not right now baby, let’s get some food in you and a shower. Then if you want to talk, we will talk.”

  ~

  Two hours later, we’re sitting on the tailgate of my truck. She’s been fed, showered, doted over by her mother, and hugged by her father. She’s holding my hand in both of hers and drawing circles on the palm of it.

  “I’m not good right now. I was getting low before everything happened, but now, now I feel empty.” She looks up at me and I want to kiss the insecure look off her beautiful face. “You were right, I can’t breathe without you, I need you, and I’m hoping that I haven’t driven you away. I’m asking for your forgiveness, but I also need you to see where I am right now.”

  I stand up from the tail gate and turn to stand in front of her. I spread her legs so I can stand in between them and meet her gaze.

  “You are stuck with me Tally. I love you, and the only way I know how to do this, is all the way. I will take you any way you come to me. And, if right now, that is with sorrow running through your veins and darkness seeping into your bones, driving away the warmth of the light, then I will wrap you in my arms until the darkness is gone and the sorrow is replaced by joy, no matter how long that may take. You are mine to care for and I am yours. There is nothing to forgive baby. You were scared, I get that, the only thing I need to know is that you will trust me, and when you begin to doubt me because of where you are or because you feel you are a mess, tell me so that I can show you that I am not going anywhere.”

  “How will you show me?”

  I grab her face gently and dip my head to her mouth. I take what is mine and give what is hers, showing her with my love, what words don’t always convey. She is all that I need, all that I want and as I kiss the woman I love, the woman I will spend my life with, I pour every ounce of myself into it. It’s the only way I know how to love her.

  I pull back, but continue to hold her face in my hands. Our breathing is rapid and we both struggle to get it under control. I taste her on my mouth and know that I could get drunk on her taste. “Tally Baker, beloved of mine, I’m going to marry you. When you feel the seeds of doubt slip in, when your reality becomes one that I can’t see, you remember those words. You will be my wife and I will spend the rest of our lives reminding you, that you may have bipolar disorder, but it does not have you. It cannot have you because I have claimed you and I don’t share.”

  Epilogue

  “My name is Tally Baker. I’m 18 and have been living with bipolar disorder for nearly a year. Today is a good day. I’ve had lots of good days and know that for now the depression has passed. I know the pendulum of the disease is swinging the other way and that I need to pay attention to how I’m feeling. I know that I am the one in control of this disease. I know that I am not in this alone.” ~Journal entry Tally Baker

  “Trey asked me to marry him today. He informed me that since we have both graduated from high school there was no reason for us to just keep putting off the inevitable.” I laugh out loud in the empty cemetery as I lean against Candy’s tombstone. “I wish you could have been there, you would have loved what he said next. So after he informs me that we should get on with getting married he says, we need to get married young, so that I will have many, many years of bedding you.” I look down at her grave as if she can see me and roll my eyes. “He seriously said bedding you, I mean who says that? Of course you know I said yes, I mean who could resist such a romantic proposal?”

  I lay my head back and let the summer sun warm my face. I’ve been making weekly visits to Candy’s grave and much to my surprise have found that my time here, talking to a tombstone has become a form of therapy, and although I don’t know if she can hear me, I can’t help but imagine her sitting here next to me, making smartass comments the entire time.

  It’s been over a year since I met Candy. It’s been over a year since my world fell apart. I look down at my bare arms the words still stare back at me, a reminder of where I’ve been, but also a testament to the fact that I survived. I didn’t do it alone, and though some might think that it is a weakness, they would be horribly wrong. The battlefield of the mind is not one that can be defeated unaided. When perception becomes altered and falsehoods become reality, the ability to reason and be reasoned with becomes nearly non-existent. Dr. Stacey still reminds me that meds are 10% of the treatment and therapy is 90%. Therapy includes not only your doctor, or your group sessions, but also the support system that you need to build around you. My support system happens to include a dead crazy old lady, and it makes me smile to know that Candy would undoubtedly tease me mercilessly over it.

  “All right you crazy old bat, my ride is here,” I say as I look up and see Trey walking towards me. He reaches out his hand, and I grab it, letting him pull me to my feet.

  “Did you tell her?” He asks me with a mischievous grin.

  Yes, my now fiancé, even talks as if she can hear me. How I love him , and his ability to roll with me, crazy and all.

  “Yes, I told her.”

  “What did she say?”

  I can’t help the bark of laughter at his question. Only Trey could ask what a dead woman’s response was to a question and say it
with such seriousness that you think he expects an answer.

  “She said to let her know when you decide to quit bedding me and just go at it like rabbits.”

  Trey throws his head back laughing and the sunlight shines on his long black hair. His face is bright with joy, and when he looks at me, as he is doing right now, I can’t help but reflect that joy back at him like a mirror.

  “Today’s a good day,” he tells me as he wraps his arm around my waist and leads me back to the truck.

  “Yes, it definitely is,” I agree.

  “Does that mean a victory dance?” He raises his eye brows at me suggestively.

  “I think these victory dances have gotten a little out of control.”

  He shakes his head, “No such thing.”

  I tap my finger against my lips as I climb into the truck, “Hmm, okay I will give you a victory dance if you go tell my dad we’re engaged―while I’m conveniently occupied with Natalie.”

  He raises a brow at me as a smirk slides across his mouth, “You’re telling me that my girl, who has been through hell and back and survived is scared to tell her daddy she’s getting married?”

  I nod, not embarrassed in the least.

  “Nope, no deal babe, sorry but we’re in this together.”

  “Always,” I tell him as I lean over with a grin on my face and kiss him.

  ~

  I’m Tally Baker I have bipolar disorder. I am a survivor, but I refuse to let that be my only legacy. I choose to live, not just endure, but to really live.

  From the author:

  Thank you so much for taking this journey with me. This book has been one of the hardest things for me to write and I hope that maybe just one person will find hope and encouragement through Tally’s story. If you have a mental illness, please know you are not alone. I pray you will make the choice to live. I pray you will not let the disease rule you, but that you will take control and know that you can live a full, abundant life. I don’t say that flippantly, I say it in all sincerity and I say it from experience. My name is Quinn Loftis, I have bipolar disorder, I have survived, but I refuse to let that be my only legacy. I choose to live, not just endure, but to really live.